capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

WHO: Amelia (

willofjustice) and Alphonse (

alphonse)
WHERE: Ed, Al, and Ling's apartment.
WHEN: Tonight.
WARNINGS: Possible explosions.
SUMMARY: Two people without great knowledge of modern technology or cooking attempt to make food. You know it all goes downhill from there.
FORMAT: Paragraph?

It wasn't that Amelia did not take the situation with the Porter seriously. Indeed, even as she dug through the pots and pans in the alchemists' kitchen, her communicator was with her, on and sticking out of a pocket. At a moment's notice, she would leave, no matter what was going on, but for the moment life went on, and long ago she and Alphonse had promised one another an attempt to figure out the complexities of cooking. With Amelia staying at the alchemists' apartment for a couple of days while Lina was away, it seemed like a prime opportunity.

Rattling and clanging emerged from the cupboard as she attempted to find a pot large enough for their needs, poking it up onto the counter for Alphonse's approval. "Ne, that one? I think it's the biggest."

On the menu was doughnuts.

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Fire! Unlike Alphonse, Amelia flailed internally. Occasionally the campfires she'd mentioned previously to Al went awry, and ultimately she did what any of her group would have done in that situation.

"Aqua Create!" A stream of water shot from her hands to meet the fire, aiming to put it out in an instant.

. . . Unfortunately Amelia did not know grease fires didn't work that way.

Edited 2009-03-17 15:54 (UTC)

When Amelia fell into the motions of spell-casting, Al figured it would be best to stay out the way. She must know some magic to put the fire out easi--

Wait, aqua?!

"Amelia!" Al grabbed her--a bit rougher than he'd have liked, considering his haste--and did his best to shove her back behind him. Chances were he could handle being burned a lot better than she could.

Predictably, the fire exploded over the stove and the surrounding area the instant the water hit. For a moment, nearly half the kitchen seemed to be engulfed in deadly flames. The worst of the flare-up was short-lived, but nonetheless dangerous and destructive--smaller fires had taken hold in several places, and would obviously continue to spread if Al and Amelia weren't able to act fast.

"Are you okay?" Al asked, slowly lowering the arm he'd been using to shield his face.

Amelia squawked, barely having time to register what her spell had done before she found herself shoved behind Al's back -- only a moment before the kitchen veritably exploded into light and heat. She shrieked then, Al a pillar in front of her against the onslaught of the blast.

Had she . . . Was he . . . ?

No time for that. Barely registering his question, Amelia took in the fire around her, managing a shaky nod. The fire at the moment was her first priority, her hands spinning the spell.

No water. "Mos Varium!"

A ball of light blossomed, spinning like a top, sucking fire into its bowels like a small, hungry sun, leaving the kitchen smoking in its wake.

Al couldn't help wincing as Amelia immediately launched into another spell, but it was soon clear that this one was much different than the last. He blinked as the magic did its work, impressed at just how quickly and efficiently she'd managed to get things back under control.

"Thanks." Al breathed a sigh of relief and stepped back to survey the damage, both to the apartment and to Amelia. His own clothes were a little singed, and he dusted at them absently. "Are you sure you're not hurt?"

"Am *I* hurt?" She whirled on him even as the light ball vanished, her eyes enormous. "Are *you* hurt?"

Al didn't answer at first, too unsure of how to react to her concern. That most people thought of him as invincible was something he kept taking for granted, but more and more often, he was learning it no longer applied here. He hadn't meant to worry her.

"I'm a pretty hard person to hurt." Al smiled reassuringly and scratched at the back of his head, though his expression still held traces of tension. "Sorry about all that. Water doesn't mix very well with a grease fire."

Well, that was right; he *had* fended off the bullets, that night with Khonshu -- he and Ling both. But still . . . seizing his arm, she examined it for any burns, turning it back and forth.

Amelia's actions were once again unexpected, but Al made no move to draw away from her. He bit his lip, silently watching as she looked him over. He didn't mind the inspection if it would make her feel better--any damage he'd suffered was only superficial.

"...I'm fine," he said finally, his voice much softer than before. "I promise."